


I'd Look Good On You

by Anonymous



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Masturbation, Omega Persona 5 Protagonist, Piss Fetish, Scenting, Stink Kink, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Well, he wanted, and that’s why he’s going toget. Thieves take what they want, and Akira's gone too long under Goro’s burning gaze and in Maruki’s questionable utopia to not deserve getting dicked down. There’s only one thought in his head when he meets up with Lavenza and suggests her telling the thieves to meet her at the school, and it’s that he and Goro are similar sizes. Perfectly matched.He'd fit in his clothes.---Akira Kurusu is going to get his mate to notice him by any means necessary. Companion toDeep Breaths.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 138
Collections: Anonymous





	I'd Look Good On You

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags! 
> 
> Thank you [Ethykink](https://twitter.com/ethykink) for the clutch beta 💖 💖 💖 
> 
> Companion piece to [Deep Breaths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26371183).

There's a running theme among dynamic romances in popular culture that Akira doesn't really appreciate. If the omega isn't a fragile, pure waif being pursued by wicked alphas that want them for their body, then it's the complete opposite set up with an experienced seductress of an omega tempting valiant alphas away with their honey-scented wiles. They're either naive or _evil_ , a victim or the aggressor. Akira isn't either of those things, but when he thinks about what he's about to do, he might not be as completely removed from them as he liked to think.

The thing is, Akira isn’t dull or blind. His suppressants subdue his heat and his pheromones, but they don’t kill off his ability to smell or put two and two together. In fact, his nose has always been rather good. It’s how he's able to lead their seven person group without having to raise his voice once, how he’s able to tell what someone needs without a single word. He might be setting up to try and temp a certain alpha away, but the path Goro is on is neither bright nor virtuous. So they're either both casualties, both instigators, or both fools.

Disregarding all of that, Akira thinks that they should just be mates.

He’d been too anxious and confused to scent Goro properly when they'd met at the TV station, and even if he had, it had been almost impossible to tell what Goro had smelled like with how heavy his blockers were. The producers and his fans liked it when his scent wasn’t so aggressive, those _fools_ \- so Akira had found himself loitering around him for a few days, attracted but unsure. Then the cafe date had happened, and Akira had gotten his nails into Akechi’s scalp, and-

Well, then he was _certain_ that Goro Akechi was his mate.

He’d gotten wet when he’d finally sniffed his fingers later, despite the government-mandated drugs. It’d been shameful, how he’d immediately kicked Mona out, rutting and grinding into the corner of one of the crates under his shitty mattress so he wouldn’t override the scent on his fingertips. He’d whined the whole time too, distressed, wanting to shove those fingers into his hole or in his mouth so he could properly mix their smells but knowing that it would disappear the moment he took any inside himself. He hadn’t washed his hands for a day until Sojiro demanded he help with coffee.

So Goro Akechi was his mate. Akira was certain of this. Has _been_ certain of this. Went through the appropriate pining, lamenting, angsting, lusting, and grief that is associated with having your mate be an assassin that was sent to shoot you in the head and then went off and died. He’d cried and prayed and masturbated more times than he wanted to admit. Keeping Goro’s glove pristine was a conscious effort just in case he really _was_ gone (not that Goro would die from something as easy as a cognitive double, Akira believed in him). However, the leather was already beginning to smell faintly like his breath from how many times he’d buried his face against it while working himself open.

So. Mate. Mate who didn’t _know_. Mate who had a gorgeous dick and a good-sized knot if Akira’s visual deductions were up to par, mate with the _shitty_ nose that couldn't pick up the whiffs of Akira's scent his blockers couldn't hold back whenever Goro sauntered into the vicinity.

Mate who was _back_ now, mate who was finally expressing himself in a way that matched his scent and whose attention was always single-mindedly on Akira in a way that made him want to climb into Goro’s lap, suck on his scent gland, and take him in dry. Or, slick. It’s not like Akira was ever _fully_ dry when Goro looked at him like that. God, he wanted Goro to bend him in half, wanted to jump on top of him and ride him, wanted both the Goro who would spend way too much time prepping him until Akira _begged_ and the Goro who would just shove his way in with no prep at all. Akira could take it, he could take all of him. He wanted—

Well, he _wanted_ , and that’s why he’s going to _get_. Thieves take what they want, and Akira's gone too long under Goro’s burning gaze and in Maruki’s questionable utopia to not deserve getting dicked down. There’s only one thought in his head when he meets up with Lavenza and suggests her telling the thieves to meet her at the school, and it’s that he and Goro are similar sizes. Perfectly matched.

He'd fit in his clothes.

And he _knows_ Goro wants _him_ as well, he just needs to... shift his cognition a little bit, perhaps. It’s exciting in the same way that planning a heist is. He’s already been shifting his suppressant meal times further and further apart, and there’s a brief window right before his nighttime dose now where he can almost smell himself again. That’s good. That would work. Lavenza tilts her head but agrees, and winds up musing some vague thought that justifies the choice in the end anyway. You _go_ , Lavenza. Akira knew he could count on her.

The next step, of course, is the jersey. There are a few ways he could prep it, but the easiest would probably just be through sweat and slick. Once he’s back in his attic with Morgana sufficiently hassled away, Akira slides off his underwear before pulling the sweats back on his bare skin. He shivers a bit as he feels the hard nub of the crotch point press against his balls, swaying his hips in the air to test how it feels. He grips the waistband and gives the entire garment an experimental tug up, feels his knees tremor as the rough inseam presses against his hole and pulls a line through to his flaccid cock. Goro would get these. He’d at least wear them, if not do more to them. God, Akira was going to debase himself in these and _really_ give Goro something special.

Shaking himself to clear his head before he loses himself too much, Akira makes quick strides towards unearthing the box he keeps his toys in. It’s buried under the summer clothes he’s not using in his move-in box. What he pulls out is a few cheap bullet vibrators he picked up specifically for this purpose and one long inflatable knot dildo he gauged to be around Goro’s erect size. Maybe just a touch smaller, if he’s being completely honest. It’d be nice if Goro could stretch him the furthest himself. It’d be nice if Akira could GET that far to begin with. He peeks his head downstairs to verify one last time that the cafe is locked properly and dead, tip toes his way back to his crappy mattress, and gets to work. He only has a little over an hour before he has to submit proof that he took his suppressants in the app the government installed on his phone.

The first course of action has already been taken care of. Akira’s two days unbathed, scented neutrally by the rain from yesterday. It’s not as if he particularly enjoys being unclean, but the idea of rubbing his skin oils into the jersey is enticing and sometimes the bathhouse is just a pain. He slides his t-shirt off and replaces it with the red jersey, lets himself shiver at the thought of what’s about to happen, takes fistfuls of the material and rubs it harshly against himself to scratch any itches he can find. Just the tiny bit of Goro’s sebum from the cafe date was able to keep him going for weeks, and the idea of possibly having even a tiny bit similar of an effect on the alpha is enough to convince Akira that it's a good idea. Akira pauses before pulling the collar up over his head and flopping onto his back so he can rub his head scent there, too. Good, good. Goro should get everything he has to give. Akira can feel himself getting wet, and he moans, presses his ass down against the mattress and whines at how the taut sweats pull against his genitals. He makes aborted little humping motions, trying to ride the seam, trying to rub his slick into it as much as possible.

Right, the toys.

Akira’s hands shake slightly as he props himself back up, reaching for one of the bullet vibrators to slip inside of himself. It goes in with little resistance thanks to the slick he’s already built up, and he takes a moment to try to work it into place before grabbing another one. He straddles his pillow and places it right below his perineum, nestled safely behind his balls, and lets himself settle his weight down to hold it in place. The crotch point jostles it slightly, but if anything, that makes it even better and Akira feels himself whimper more than he hears it. The next thing to take care of is his cock; he deliberates for a moment before pulling his length against his stomach, letting the waistband snap back in place to keep it held there. _That_ impact makes him cry out, and he hunches over for just a second before sliding the last two bullets on either side of the spongy head. There. Good. Four tiny wires crawl out of his sweats, leading to four tiny bullets in and around all of the places Akira wishes Goro was here to abuse.

He lets himself rock experimentally once, twice, enjoying the sensation of just having _something_ in himself to play with. It’s not often he’s alone and in the right mood for it, and the thought of being able to take a full hour of his time to prep something to entice his mate already has a damp spot forming on both sides of the sweats. He wonders if he can fuck himself into his pillow and send that to Goro too. The bullets buzz to life one by one as he fiddles with their respective remotes, and he barely makes two little circles with his hips before his first orgasm. It feels too good. He’s so dirty. It almost feels like Goro’s watching him, disgusted at his behavior, and the thought makes Akira's back arch further and his hips grind down harder. The one bullet in his ass isn’t nearly enough to sate him but isn’t that good? Isn’t that what he wants? To be so wanton and aching that Goro can just pull him aside at any time, can bend him over right in Maruki’s palace and slide in because Akira’s such a desperate whore he’d be able to take an alphas knot with no resistance at all.

It’s a dangerous thought to have, but he’s glad that Maruki hadn’t thought to make Akira’s wish be a Goro who would tie him up in his bed and not let him leave- because Akira _wouldn’t_ , and the world would end just like that. God, what if there were two? What if in this world he could get spit roasted by two mates, could have one knot in his mouth and the other in his ass while two Goros fought over him and used him. Goro would hate it, would hate Akira for even letting the fake _touch_ him as if it were real, but he’d hate the idea of losing to it even more. Goro’s aggressive and brittle but he’s also _soft,_ tender in the nooks and crannies that the edges managed to hide. Akira’s seen the way he talks about his mother and the fond memories he has tied to sweets- he has no doubt that Goro would treat him well. But letting some fake alpha touch him? Then he’d be upset, then he’d need to be reprimanded, then he'd punish Akira by fucking him like he's nothing more than a _hole;_ over and over again until he's so well trained that he can't even look at anyone else's cock—

The second orgasm hits.

Akira feels almost heat hazy with the way he moves, the bullets are almost all set on high, and he can see his cum lazily dripping down the gaps between his skin and the waistband that the vibrators afford. The entire crotch of the sweats is just _damp_ , and he gives another low moan as he rubs himself down even more. The heat in the attic is almost too much to bear fully clothed in gym gear, but Akira _loves_ the sweat, runs his hands up and down his torso to catch the stray beads of perspiration he can feel running down his lower back. He’s tipping into overstimulation, but he wants it, he wants to get fucked out, wants-

Wants a cock in his mouth. He’s being bad. Goro wouldn’t fuck him for this. He has to be good and earn it.

Akira tips himself forward almost immediately, moans at the squish of his cum pressing against his crotch and the elevated position that having his hips on his pillow and torso on the bed gives him. If he could, he’d present, just spread his cheeks open for the phantom Goro to take, but he doesn’t want to risk displacing anything. He scrambles for the knotting dildo as the bullets buzz away, pushing it as deep into his mouth as he can take before his gag reflexes start to kick in. He can be good, he _can_ , he'll do so well that he'll _deserve_ to be fucked the way he really wants-

A sudden lethargy overtakes him, and the desperate sucking slows down to small kitten licks as he drools around the fake cock. Akira supposes he shouldn’t be surprised- he already came twice, after all. He wishes he had a fucking machine. He wishes Goro was actually here to press against his spine and _make_ him take it, goad him into being better. But if Goro was actually here Akira would make sure to fuck him out too, give _just_ as good as he gets, tease him until he's teary eyed and needy so Akira could comfort him while he milks his cock dry. If he was up to it, Akira could even bend _him_ over- eat him out, make the prickly alpha take an omega’s dick. Then he could suck him off to soothe him back down, massage his knot with his tongue-

The dildo in his mouth is back in deep again, just resting as if he were warming it. Akira caresses his own jaw gently, feeling the toy through the fat of his cheek before creeping around to the base of the toy to begin inflating the knot. Goro should ruin him- oh, already has, but Akira wants to take care of him too, wants to take him to pieces so he can caress the fragile bits of him no one else can see. Wants the fire in himself that pesters him to always be moving to be pacified by cock, wants to hold and be held and ruin and be taken apart. The knot forces his jaw open at an uncomfortable angle for how he's laid out on the bed and all Akira can do is keen as he feels more slick drip down his crack and get massaged into both himself and the sweats by the buzzing vibrators. He flicks the base of the dildo with a finger, feels the vibration travel deep down his throat, and comes one more pathetic time with tears dripping down his cheeks.

Damn, he's sort of lonely, huh.

Akira lets himself lay prone for another five minutes before deflating the knot and slowly pulling the dildo out, switching off each bullet one by one as he pulls himself off his pillow and flops onto his back in the other direction. His hair is damp and sticking to his skin, and the jersey is conspicuously dark and splotchy with sweat. The crotch of his pants are soaked by this point, making small noises as he moves to peel the entire ensemble off so he can ball it up together and make sure the scent of his slick spreads. He pauses for a moment to stare at the mound, feeling distinctly sated but underwhelmed. His throat burns in the pleasant way it does whenever he tries to deep throat this particular dildo, his hole puffy and slightly swollen after all the vibrator abuse.

But he wants a little more, maybe, wants to end the night properly before he has to take his meds in 15-something minutes, so he pulls the round lump of damp fabric under his ass to prop his hips up and grabs hold of the dildo again. It's not as frenetic and deeply satisfying as presenting head down ass up would have been, but there's still the distinct feeling of displaying himself for someone. Akira spreads his legs just a little bit further as he pictures rust-red eyes staring at his sloppy hole. It feels nice to be on his back, makes him think that this is how missionary would probably feel like, and he lets himself whine out small moans as he slowly pushes the deflated dildo into himself. He'll fuck out the rest of his slick onto the collar of the jersey as a parting gift.

After the abuse of the vibrators, the dildo feels less textured and more like a pleasant pressure moving in and out of himself, completely indistinct in shape. Akira angles it to hit the spots he knows he likes, lets it pull more and more tension into the tight ball in his groin with every stroke. He wants- this is for Goro, after all, and he _wants_ -

His hand shoots out blindly for the garment he _knows_ he keeps near his pillow, and it's only after he brings Goro's glove to his face that he realizes that he grabbed it with slick soaked fingers. But the base and marmalade-y scent of his slick mixes _gorgeously_ with Goro's acrid and hazelnut scent, and the result is strong enough to curb the heartbreak he feels at finally overwriting Goro's pure smell. It's fine. Maybe. If he plays this right, he won't have to rely on a glove to get Goro's scent anyway.

The thought energizes him, and Akira feels almost giddy as he lets himself take a finger of the glove into his mouth, sucking gently as he gives the inflatable knot a single push. The slight stretch makes it feel better, makes it feel like Goro's arousal is growing along with his as he pushes inside, makes Akira feel like he's being good by making his body accommodate his alpha's knot. He lets himself suckle on the glove, chew it gently, bringing more and more of it into his mouth until it's full. Another pump into the knot, and chew, another suck, and Akira feels almost alight with the pleasure, set ablaze. Incandescent.

His neck burns in the way it only does on unregulated heats, and he _wishes_ that **it was the case, that just the thought of Goro fucking him was strong enough to tell his body to prep to be _bred_. His wrist burns as he flicks the dildo in more savagely, pictures all the different ways Goro could fuck him during a heat- gently, like a treasure, to prove that he _can_ ; roughly, to drag him to whatever level Goro himself was on. He could grind his dick in and refuse to move unless Akira fucked himself down on him, just to be an ass- he could hold Akira down and not let him move _at all_ to show him his place. He could- oh, he'd probably abuse Akira's prostate just to be a jerk, just because he wanted to see him cry from it-

He's whining, glove completely stuffed in his mouth and back arched in an attempt grind his ass down and press the dildo against his prostate further. He can feel the leather against the back of his teeth, almost like a knot, almost like all the words he always wants to say but _can't_. His mind is whirring through every fantasy he has- he wants to be tied, he wants to be bred, he wants Goro to parade him around like arm candy, wants to blow him under the desk at the police station, wants to fight him beforehand so that Goro can press into all the little bruises he gave him himself when they fuck, wants Goro to fuck him with his gun before shoving his knot in dry, wants the lazy missionary sex, wants a quickie against the wall in Mementos, wants the innocent, chaste pecks that end with Goro's tongue fucking his mouth, wants Goro to call him filthy trash and piss on him, wants to hold _hands_ -

It isn't until he feels something dripping off of his hipbones that Akira's eye snap open and he finds that his free hand had migrated down to press against his bladder, stream lazy and small as it fights to escape his hard dick and navigate the mess of cum that's still tacky on his groin. His first thought is panic because he _can't_ make more of a mess than he already has on his bed, the smell of slick is infinitely easier to get out of fabric than urine is but oh, _oh_ , it's seeping right into the jersey that he's going to give to Goro later. It's perfect. His thighs shake with the effort of keeping himself steady and tilted as he fucks himself nice and slow with the dildo, hand migrating from pressing against his bladder to inflate the knot bit by bit whenever the stream of piss stops and he needs a little help getting more out. It's not a lot, Akira hadn't drank beforehand to prep for it or anything but- but it's there. The jersey with his sweat and slick and cum and piss is going right to Akechi. His mate is finally going to be able to smell him, he-

He pumps again and the dildo makes a ridiculous squeaking noise, letting him know it's fully inflated. He feels the tension in his hips snap, feels the moment he stops peeing and the few drops of watery cum make their way out instead.

Akira's boneless as he collapses back onto his mattress, his sheets almost as saturated in his bodily fluids as his gym clothes are. He heaves out once, twice, and the third is cut short by the shrill ringing of his suppressant app going off. With a groan, Akira flips his legs over- the knot holding the dildo in place- and penguin shuffles his way towards his desk where he left his log book and nightly dosage ready. He checks the angle to make sure it only shows up to his neck and takes one barely steady and _very_ sweaty video of him knocking back his meds with a timestamp attached. He sends it off, gives his log book a little checkmark, and finally sinks back down to his knees.

He can smell his mess from across the attic- he probably could from Leblanc's seating area, if he's being honest, and. And it's a little much. Maybe. He wants to entice Goro, not hand him something so disgusting that it makes the alpha drag him back to Mementos to let Loki have his way with him. He lets himself count to three before releasing the air from the knot and gently tugging the dildo out, stepping back into his earlier discarded underwear and feeling very thankful for omegan refractory periods. He gathers the soggy red bundle up in his arms and takes another sniff.

Yeah, maybe one light washing cycle before he hands it over.


End file.
